Making Up People
Ian Hacking
I have long been interested in classifications
of people, in how they affect the people
classified, and how the affects on the people
in turn change the classifications. We think
of many kinds of people as objects of scientific
inquiry. Sometimes to control them, as prostitutes,
sometimes to help them, as potential suicides.
Sometimes to organise and help, but at the
same time keep ourselves safe, as the poor
or the homeless. Sometimes to change them
for their own good and the good of the public,
as the obese. Sometimes just to admire, to
understand, to encourage and perhaps even
to emulate, as (sometimes) geniuses. We think
of these kinds of people as definite classes
defined by definite properties. As we get
to know more about these properties, we will
be able to control, help, change, or emulate
them better.
But it's not quite like that. They are moving
targets because our investigations interact
with them, and change them. And since they
are changed, they are not quite the same
kind of people as before. The target has
moved. I call this the ‘looping effect'.
Sometimes, our sciences create kinds of people
that in a certain sense did not exist before.
I call this ‘making up people'. What sciences?
The ones I shall call the human sciences,
which, thus understood, include many social
sciences, psychology, psychiatry and, speaking
loosely, a good deal of clinical medicine.
I am only pointing, for not only is my definition
vague, but specific sciences should never
be defined except for administrative and
educational purposes. Living sciences are
always crossing borders and borrowing from
each other.
The engines used in these sciences are engines
of discovery but also engines for making
up people. Statistical analysis of classes
of people is a fundamental engine. We constantly
try to medicalise: doctors tried to medicalise
suicide as early as the 1830s. The brains
of suicides were dissected to find the hidden
cause. More generally, we try to biologise,
to recognise a biological foundation for
the problems that beset a class of people.
More recently, we have hoped to geneticise
as much as possible. Thus obesity, once regarded
as a problem of incontinence, or weakness
of the will, becomes the province of medicine,
then of biology, and at present we search
for inherited genetic tendencies. A similar
story can be told in the search for the criminal
personality.
These reflections on the classification of
people are a species of nominalism. But traditional
nominalism is static. Mine is dynamic; I
am interested in how names interact with
the named. The first dynamic nominalist may
have been Nietzsche. An aphorism in The Gay Science begins: ‘There is something that causes
me the greatest difficulty, and continues
to do so without relief: unspeakably more
depends on what things are called than on
what they are.' It ends: ‘Creating new names
and assessments and apparent truths is enough
to create new “things”.' Making up people
would be a special case of this phenomenon.
Around 1970, there arose a few paradigm cases
of strange behaviour similar to phenomena
discussed a century earlier and largely forgotten.
A few psychiatrists began to diagnose multiple
personality. It was rather sensational. More
and more unhappy people started manifesting
these symptoms. At first they had the symptoms
they were expected to have, but then they
became more and more bizarre. First, a person
had two or three personalities. Within a
decade the mean number was 17. This fed back
into the diagnoses, and became part of the
standard set of symptoms. It became part
of the therapy to elicit more and more alters.
Psychiatrists cast around for causes, and
created a primitive, easily understood pseudo-Freudian
aetiology of early sexual abuse, coupled
with repressed memories. Knowing this was
the cause, the patients obligingly retrieved
the memories. More than that, this became
a way to be a person. In 1986, I wrote that
there could never be ‘split' bars, analogous
to gay bars. In 1991 I went to my first split
bar.
This story can be placed in a five-part framework.
We have
(a) a classification, multiple personality,
associated with what at the time was called
a ‘disorder'. This kind of person is now
a moving target. We have
(b) the people, those I call ‘unhappy', ‘unable
to cope', or whatever relatively non-judgmental
term you might prefer. There are
(c) institutions, which include clinics,
annual meetings of the International Society
for the Study of Multiple Personality and
Dissociation, afternoon talkshows on television
(Oprah Winfrey and Geraldo Rivera made a
big thing of multiples, once upon a time),
and weekend training programmes for therapists,
some of which I attended. There is
(d) the knowledge: not justified true belief,
once the mantra of analytic philosophers,
but knowledge in Popper's sense of conjectural
knowledge, and, more specifically, the presumptions
that are taught, disseminated and refined
within the context of the institutions. Especially
the basic facts (not ‘so-called facts', or
‘facts' in scare-quotes): for example, that
multiple personality is caused by early sexual
abuse, that 5 per cent of the population
suffer from it, and the like. There is expert
knowledge, the knowledge of the professionals,
and there is popular knowledge, shared by
a significant part of the interested population.
There was a time, partly thanks to those
talkshows and other media, when ‘everyone'
believed that multiple personality was caused
by early sexual abuse. Finally, there are
(e) the experts or professionals who generate
(d) the knowledge, judge its validity, and
use it in their practice. They work within
(c) institutions that guarantee their legitimacy,
authenticity and status as experts. They
study, try to help, or advise on the control
of (b) the people who are (a) classified
as of a given kind.
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